


something electric (til death do us part)

by blacksatinpointeshoes



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Gen, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Undercover, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 21:04:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16794715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacksatinpointeshoes/pseuds/blacksatinpointeshoes
Summary: "Robbie starts calling Daisy ‘hon’ when they sit down for breakfast and she responds by dubbing him ‘dear’ when they tour the national mall. At lunch, Robbie borrows her fake glasses to read the menu, and Daisy giggles behind her hand. By dinner, they fondly recount the night of their engagement - an entirely fake story, of course, that they make up along the way."Daisy and Robbie are sent on an undercover mission, fake-marriage style.





	something electric (til death do us part)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [modernVictoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/modernVictoria/gifts).



> hellO rarepair fic exchange! this was as wish-fulfilling for me as I hope it will be for you. many hopes that you'll enjoy!!!

_ “Married?”  _ Daisy exclaims, heat rushing to her face. “Coulson, you can’t be serious.” 

It’s not that she’s opposed to this assignment, exactly. Daisy loves undercover work; she excels at it. Transforming, temporarily, into another person, is one of her favorite parts about being an agent of SHIELD. 

This is some routine mission, protecting an American government official at a high-stakes conference in DC. It’s nice to have routine missions again, and it’s nice to be on speaking terms with the American government again. The excursion will be fraught with danger, but that doesn’t faze Daisy one bit. 

“Perfectly serious,” says Coulson. This is what has Daisy all riled up. “You two have been undercover together before. You just don’t have to dye your hair black this time. No goth costume, I promise.”

“Ha-ha,” Daisy replies unenthusiastically, wishing her wavy bob was long enough to hide her bright red cheeks. “Listen, why don’t you and May go? I can run technical support from here.”

“I’m going to be at base for a meeting with the SHIELD budgeting correspondent,” Coulson says, eyeing her. “And Melinda’s in Canada. You know this, kiddo. What’s the problem? It’s just Robbie.”

_ Robbie. _

Yes. That is the problem. The problem is Robbie Reyes himself, looking rather scorned in the back of the room. His eyes are downcast and his arms are folded. One twitchy finger fiddles with the drawstring of his white sweatshirt. Daisy suddenly feels terrible for having exploded so vehemently at the thought of fake-marrying him. But she’s also feeling a lot of other things, too, and this is where the dilemma lies. 

Daisy knows what a false marriage assignment looks like: both agents holding hands whenever they’re in public, kissing each other and whispering tactical directions into the other’s ear, innocently carding a hand through their “spouse”’s hair to tap morse-code messages on the back of their partner’s neck. Daisy also knows that every inch of the facade is dropped once the cameras disappear and that hotel room suites are never lonelier than during those nights. She’s been on a false-marriage assignment with Piper, once, and it was - well, it was nice. That’s the only thing she’ll say. 

“Right,” says Daisy after she realizes that both Coulson and Robbie are staring at her. “Right! You’re right, Coulson, there’s no problem. I have to go.” 

With all the grace of a newborn foal, Daisy tears out of the office and rethinks her words a million times.  _ Oh, God, Robbie must hate me. _

* * *

“Hey, man.” 

“What’s up, Reyes?”

Robbie Reyes doesn’t feel small often, and less so with the Rider, but Alphonso Mackenzie can still manage to intimidate him. The man’s an amazing SO, though, so Robbie doesn’t sweat it. He’s just really glad that they’re on the same team.

“Does, uh - does Daisy hate me or something?” Robbie asks, feeling like a primary school gossip. 

Mack laughs. “Daisy  _ Johnson?”  _

“The one and only.” 

“Kinda doubt it, man.” Mack smiles like he knows something. “What makes you say that?”

“No, uh, we just -” Robbie doesn’t really want to recount the twisting in his gut at Daisy’s reaction to their assignment, so he doesn’t. “It’s nothing. Stupid question.”

“Damn right it’s a stupid question,” Mack chuckles, and claps Robbie on the shoulder. The door to the gym swings shut as Robbie leaves.

There’s a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. That’s normal, right? It’s just his desire to be friendly with his coworker, right? His want to see this assignment go smoothly? It’s not about the word “marriage” or anything. It’s not about that. Robbie isn’t  _ pining,  _ that’s ridiculous. He doesn’t do that. If he liked Daisy, he would just ask her, like the grown man he is. 

_ Stupid question,  _ Robbie reminds himself.  _ You’re friends. You’ve been friends for a while.  _ But why does even that make him feel terrible? 

* * *

“Thoughts?” Daisy offers as she trots towards the quinjet, pulling in fashionably late three minutes after they were scheduled to leave and holding a latte. It’s around five in the morning and she can’t function without caffeine.

Daisy looks  _ good.  _ She’s wearing a black cable knit jumper and her short hair is pulled back into an athletic bun at the nape of her neck. She is adorned by a beige pea coat and round, owlish glasses. Frosty pink gloss shines like a sunrise on lake upon Daisy’s puckered, thinking lips. 

“Uh, it’s nice,” Robbie offers, tugging at the corner of his sleek, subtly armored ski jacket. He’s out of his usual sweatshirt, instead swathed in an upscale gray half-zip pullover which probably costs more than his monthly expenses. Instantly he wishes he’d said something more intelligent, but he’s blushing fiercely already. He turns to get out of this terrible situation of his own making when Daisy catches up to him, touching his elbow. 

“Here,” she says, and offers a simple gold band. She’s wearing an identical one, Robbie notices, and pretends like that doesn’t make his heart stutter. 

“Thanks,” Robbie replies, meeting her eyes and wishing for a million things.

“‘Till death do us part,” chirps Daisy, and plops the ring right in his palm. 

Daisy Johnson is losing her mind on the quinjet ride, in which she and Robbie make appropriately friendly conversation. That’s not the issue. She likes the conversation, and it flows well. The problem here is that Robbie is sporting five o’clock shadow like nobody’s business, and Daisy is  _ staring.  _

The hours trickle on and Robbie eventually begins to nod off - at which point Daisy’s heart rate picks up a jump rope and tries double dutch - so Daisy slurps listlessly at her empty latte, wondering if Robbie had so much as glanced at her very cute disguise. 

* * *

The quinjet touches down at nine in the morning and Robbie startles into waking. For a moment he’s woozy, but Daisy soon swings by with a new latte and everything comes rushing back. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she says with a grin. “We’re going to scope out the area today for the meeting tomorrow.”

“You look too excited about this,” Robbie returns warily, but he’s not upset about that smile at all. 

“Oh, I am.” Daisy beams. “We’re going sightseeing, in case you couldn’t tell. Catch!” She throws some touristy merchandise towards him, which Robbie snags only with the Rider’s help. It is hideous and gaudy, and Daisy laughs at his expression. Robbie laughs right along with her.

* * *

Sightseeing is partially tactical - okay, it’s mostly tactical. It gives the two of them a change to settle into their married routine and practice their cover stories. “Nora and James Friedman” are concerned citizens and business tycoons, apparently, and will be attending a multinational conference of delegates the following day.

Robbie starts calling Daisy ‘hon’ when they sit down for breakfast and she responds by dubbing him ‘dear’ when they tour the national mall. At lunch, Robbie borrows her fake glasses to read the menu, and Daisy giggles behind her hand. By dinner, they fondly recount the night of their engagement - an entirely fake story, of course, that they make up along the way. 

An old couple stops at Robbie and Daisy’s table on their way out and wishes them the best in life, saying that they remember being “just like the two of you,” the first woman swoons. “Isn’t that right?”

“Oh yes,” says the second woman, looking adoringly at her wife. “We were so young and newly married and so deeply, truly in love. You two just look so, so in love. Isn’t that sweet?”

“It’s so sweet,” the first woman sighs, and both agents’ faces heat up. Daisy is so cherry-tomato red she might burst. 

* * *

They return to the hotel very quietly. Daisy doesn’t want to say anything, but she also desperately wants to say  _ something.  _ Robbie is trying to convince himself that he has no feelings for Daisy, but wasn’t there a certain rightness in calling her ‘honey’? How could he deny that?

Daisy clears her throat loudly. Robbie looks up from his phone. There’s only one bed.

“I can sleep on the floor,” says Robbie.

“It’s fine, I’ll take the floor,” Daisy objects immediately. “Trust me. I used to sleep in a van; this isn’t as bad.”

“Daisy -”

“Great! Glad that’s settled.” Daisy proceeds to set up her suitcase in a corner and spend fifteen minutes picking out her single pair of packed pyjamas. 

Robbie, meanwhile, meanders into the bathroom and takes a shower. He exits, dressed for bed, as Daisy finally pulls on a pale pink tee. “Bathroom’s free.”

“Thanks.”

Why is she so damn nervous about all of this? Daisy can’t fathom it. There’s something between them - something electric - and the whole air is charged with it. It’s unspoken and hungry, and Daisy is certain Robbie can feel it too. She brushes her teeth and then he comes in and brushes his teeth and he looks so good, so  _ good  _ in a pair of wire-rimmed glasses (real ones) and flannel pyjama pants, and she is losing her mind over that stubble again. 

Daisy’s thoughts are one run-on sentence after another and her hand is shaking and they’re just brushing their teeth together, still wearing their fake wedding rings. They’re _both_ wearing the rings, even though they technically don't have to, and suddenly Daisy has a mental image of this, every single night, over and over and over until they are old and wrinkly and dead. 

_ Till death do us part.  _

Daisy finishes brushing her teeth and goes to sleep on the floor.

* * *

At midnight, Robbie wakes up screaming. Daisy’s first thought is to comfort him. Her second thought is of the mission’s status - it could be compromised by suspicious activity in their hotel room - and hates herself for it.

“Hey.” Without thinking, Daisy climbs on the bed.  _ “Hey.  _ Hey, it’s me, hey, hey, hey, Robbie, listen.”

“Daisy -”

“Yes. Hi.” 

Robbie’s whole body convulses, noiseless, and Daisy pulls him close enough to smell his sleepy-smell. He leans into her shoulder and her hand comes up to run through his hair, no ulterior motive, just comfort. When he pulls away, Robbie is blinking rapidly.

“You can cry, you know,” Daisy murmurs.

“No, I can’t,” he says, and she knows he’s right. Not until the mission’s over. “Did I -”

“We’re not compromised.”

“Are you angry?” says Robbie, and he sounds like a boy. Daisy’s heart breaks over and over and over, and she keeps running her hand through his hair.

“No. Of course not.”  _ Not one bit. Not ever. Not at all. _ She moves to slide off the bed, but Robbie catches her wrist. 

“Is the ground really that comfortable?” he asks, but Daisy knows what he is offering. 

“I guess not.” 

Robbie makes room in the bed for her, and falls asleep long before she does. Daisy eventually drifts away having memorized the constellations of his freckles, the furrow in his brow, and the pattern of that horribly tempting stubble. 

There is something in the air between them, and it hasn’t been resolved. Not tonight. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you wanna holla at me, I'm over on tumblr @thoughtsbubble. :) kudos and comments are much appreciated!!


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